


Day twenty seven

by joannereads



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: M/M, One shot (probably), Some plot with the porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 12:48:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3851527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joannereads/pseuds/joannereads
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Twenty seven days. Twenty seven days stuck on this godforsaken beach. Twenty seven days since their helicopter crash. Twenty seven days since he’s seen Grace.'<br/>It's been a long few weeks, and Danny is frustrated with his lot. Steve seems eternally optimistic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day twenty seven

**Author's Note:**

> My first McDanno pairing, this idea has been brewing for a while. I hope I did them justice! Enjoy, and feedback is always appreciated, providing it's constructive.

Twenty seven days. Twenty seven days stuck on this godforsaken beach. Twenty seven days since their helicopter crash. Twenty seven days since he’s seen Grace.

“Danno?”

“Yes, Steven?” he snaps in return, startled from his reverie. Okay, reverie might be a bit extravagant, wallowing is probably more accurate.

“I caught dinner!” Steve’s face is alight, his eyes wide and smile genuine. Several fish hang from a rope in one hand, his hand-made spear loose in the other.

“Ah, yes. Fish. Because we haven’t eaten enough fish recently, have we?” Danny mutters, too utterly fed up to be grateful. He knows that if Steve wasn’t with him, he wouldn’t be surviving so comfortably. The shelter over his head, which protects from both rain and sun but not—unfortunately—from bugs, was fashioned by Steve within a day of their landing. The fuel tank, it turned out, had been caught by a stray shot as they left port, and their fuel reserve had dribbled away into the ocean. Danny shudders at the memory of falling—the sensation unpleasant in its unfamiliarity. Plummeting towards the earth, rotors spluttering, the cab shaking. Steve had remained his usual calm, collected SEAL-like self, and managed to land them without serious injury.

But no-one knew where they were, the helo had no GPS, and until someone worked out where they were, they were stuck here.

“You know, I could easily let you starve,” Steve sighs, frustrated by Danny’s appalling attitude, but just as understanding. It was a fine line to walk.

“Sorry. Sorry,” Danny dismisses, the wave of his hands familiar and soothing. “I’ll make a start with the fire if you want to go do what you do with the insides of those.” Danny glances at Steve and is rewarded with a smile and a nod. They go their separate ways again to focus on their own tasks.

 

The sun is already beginning to slip below the horizon, turning the ocean into a simmering orange mass, when Steve returns. The fish are clean, their scales, heads and innards long since gone. Danny watches as Steve places the flesh onto the makeshift grill over the—slightly less makeshift—fire pit. He settles himself in the sand close to Danny and they look towards the horizon, towards where they know O’Ahu is, they just can’t see it.

“I’m sorry I got you stuck here,” Steve says gently, his voice low and quiet in the rapidly cooling evening.

“Not your fault,” Danny appeases.

“You always blame me when we get shot at!”

“Take this one, then. It’s your freebie.”

Silence descends over them as they wait for the fish to be done. There are green things too, which Steve gathers daily. Danny knows that he’s been told the name of the plant several times, but it never sticks. Perhaps it’s his way of denying that they are stuck here, that they need to keep themselves safe. After all, it’s unclear when (oh God, if!) they will be recovered. There hasn’t been a single boat or plane since their crash.

“You think really, really loudly. You know that, right?” Steve asks. He turns his face towards Danny and this time his eyes are wistful, a little lost.

“There have to be stories you can tell me about being in worse situations than this,” Danny deflects.

“It’s all classified, Danny. My military life, classified. You know that.”

“Look around you, babe, who am I going to tell?”

Steve sighs and huffs out a laugh. “We aren’t going to be here forever,” he replies after a quiet moment.

“What if we are?”

“We won’t be.”

The finality in Steve’s reassurance echoes around them and, for several moments, Danny finds himself pleading with anyone and anything to hear them.

 

They eat in silence, enjoying each other’s company. Stars scatter the black canvas of the sky and Steve lays back on the sand, his eyes close slowly.

“I’m going for a swim,” Danny says, shoving himself to his feet.

“Want company?” Steve asks, his eyes still closed. Danny knows that Steve was in the water for nearly three hours this afternoon, and that he needs time to rest.

“No, I’m good. I won’t be long.”

 

Danny hates to swim in the sea, but he hates running on sand more, so ocean-based exercise it is. He knows how important it is for them to stay healthy, fit, strong. The weather will turn in a few weeks—with more storms and more rain, it will be much harder to find food, firewood, peace.

Danny laps up and down, parallel to the stretch of sand they are currently calling home. He laps until the muscles in his arms start to burn, and his chest aches with the effort of breathing. Slowly, he returns to the shore, gathering up his clothes as he does. He swims in his boxers, and only at night. The sun does not like his skin and, after a rather horrendous sun burn on their third day in hell, he’s stuck to the shade as much as he can.

 

When he gets back to their camp, there is no sign of Steve. Danny sits by the fire a moment and warms himself through, hanging the seat covering they are using as a communal towel on a strong pole. He knows he isn’t ready to sleep, but he hates sitting outside their shelter on his own in the dark. He knows his fears are irrational—Steve has swept the entire island they are trapped on and confirmed absolutely nothing lives there. It’s so tiny that even Danny has walked around the whole thing in a day. It still feels strange on his own at night, though. 

Resigned to a night of staring at the wooden pole ceiling of their sort-of-lean-to and listening to Steve’s regular, gentle breathing, Danny hauls himself to his feet. He pads across the soft sand, still slightly warm, and towards their shelter.

Built of bamboo like poles and with a thick copse of trees at its back, the lean-to lets them both lie down comfortably on mats they made from the left over bits of the helicopter. There is a curtain (parachute) across the entrance which they leave raised during the day because it is a total heat trap. Now, it hangs loose over the door, swinging infinitesimally in the ocean breeze.

Quietly, so as not wake his partner, Danny pulls up the curtain.

And stops.

Steve is on his knees, legs splayed slightly, facing away from the door. Completely naked, his tanned skin is covered in a sheen of sweat that glistens in the dying firelight. And, while Danny can’t see, it is definitely clear what Steve is doing. His breaths come in short gasps, his arm shifts quickly, his head hangs low as he watches himself.

 _“Shit!”_ Danny breathes. And this time it is Steve that stops. He looks up but not toward Danny and takes a deep breath. Danny waits, his heart in his throat, for Steve to turn around and send him away, or to get up and walk out, or to turn it into a joke.

Danny waits some more. After what seems like hours but is probably barely a minute, Steve resumes what he was doing and Danny shakes his head.

“In or out, partner,” Steve gasps, “But I’m too far in to stop.”

It is exactly the kind of arrogance that Danny is used to from Steve, and he shakes his head, laughing softly. Steve continues to tug frantically at himself, but seems to be getting nowhere now. Danny knows he should go, leave Steve for ten minutes until he’s got himself _sorted_ , but he just can’t.

He wants to see.

 

He drops the curtain behind himself, shoves his clothes into the corner, and moves forward slowly.

“You want something?” Steve asks between pants.

“Nope,” Danny replies, popping his lips on the ‘p’, knowing that the sound will either irritate Steve or go unnoticed. Danny moves further forward, until he can sit on his own bed mat, directly opposite Steve.

He gets the profile view now. Steve sleeps on the right of the hut, and he masturbates with his right hand it turns out, so the left hand rests on his hip and gives Danny a wonderful view of exactly what is happening.

Steve’s cock is long and thick, just as you would expect from a man his height and build, the purplish head moves smoothly between Steve’s fingers. Danny’s own cock begins to thicken in response to the sight, which is new. Danny’s never been turned on by another man’s cock before—why now?

“What you using for lube?” Danny asks conversationally. And yes, he’s smirking, because he knows damn well that he’s distracting Steve and it’s fun to have the upper hand for a bit.

Steve reaches down into the mess of fabric he calls a bed and grabs something before tossing it at Danny (who catches it with ease, something Danny hopes annoys Steve endlessly). Turning it over in his hand, he sees Steve is actually using lube.

“Where the hell did you get this from?” Danny asks, amazed and frustrated, “I’ve been making do with spit.”

“In my bag,” Steve gasps, “packed it.”

“You packed lube, to go three islands over to collect a criminal.”

“Be prepared,” Steve mutters.

“You’re a SEAL not a goddamn girl scout.”

Steve looks between his cock and Danny a couple of times, as though the girl scout metaphor has upset him.

“Either shut up or get out,” Steve snaps, though there’s no malice in his words, just a little eroticised frustration.

“There is a third option,” Danny replies smoothly, utterly certain what direction he needs to take this in now.

Steve looks towards his partner of four years—really looks. Danny sits cross legged on his bed, but his cock is hard in his boxers, and his hair has dried softly after his swim. His eyes are lust-dark and completely focused on Steve’s face.

“Yeah?” Steve asks, his hand slowing.

“I could give you a hand,” Danny says, gesturing at the lower half of Steve’s body.

“Yeah?” Steve asks again.

“I mean, if you want,” Danny continues dismissively, his confidence and bravado slipping a little under the intensity of Steve’s stare.

“How?”

“How do you want me?”

There is silence, a moment of stillness where neither of them breathes. Danny knows that his question was very open, intentionally so, and the ball is quite literally in Steve’s court.

Danny won’t lie to him—this is new, completely new. He has no idea what he’s doing. He’s never been intimate with a man, and doubts Steve has either considering he’s in the Navy.

“I want—” Steve begins, his hand now barely moving, though his cock remains erect and heavy in his palm.

Danny waits but Steve can’t seem to find the words, so instead the blonde moves forward. He shuffles closer to Steve but doesn’t touch—they need an out still, a way to move on if they don’t do something with this situation.

“Tell me,” Danny says quietly into Steve’s ear.

“I want you to fuck me,” Steve says, his breath hot on Danny’s cheek. Danny swallows nervously. To be honest, that is totally not the way he thought this would go, but he’s slightly relieved. He can work that out, knows what to do (roughly, anyway).

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“You done that before?”

“Yes.”

“Really?” Danny is aware his questions have become repetitive.

“Not the time, Danno. Are you going to do this? Or do you need to let me finish off now.”

Danny looks deep into Steve’s eyes, and sees the heart and soul of the other man.

“I’ll do it.”

“You done this before?” Steve asks, finally realising that perhaps Danny isn’t as experienced as himself.

Danny shakes his head but smiles. “I’m sure you can give me a few tips, like you do on my driving, gun technique, cooking—” He leaves the statement hanging, but it has the desired effect. Steve lightens up immediately. Then he reaches up and curls a hand around the back of Danny’s neck and pulls him across the few inches of space that remained between them and presses their lips together.

Kissing? Danny didn’t expect there to be kissing. Was he imagining this like some kind of business arrangement? A way to help each other out? He realises in that moment that this means something to Steve, more than it does for Danny. Maybe, anyway. God, he’s confused.

Steve pulls away and looks at Danny, the question clear in his eyes.

“Don’t stop,” Danny breathes, and Steve pulls them together again. Danny’s eyes slide shut and his mind switches off. There is nothing now except the feel of Steve’s chest against his, the press of their thighs and cocks, a thin veil of fabric separating them. There is heat and lips and tongues and teeth and nothing more. Danny loses himself, drowns in the sensations of being Steve’s—because he is, clearly. Another realisation for Danny, but it doesn’t shake him. He knows now, in this moment, that he has always been Steve’s.

 

Steve presses Danny backwards until he lies across their beds horizontally. Gently, he tugs at Danny’s boxers, then they are tossed aside, forgotten. Steve’s runs a hand down Danny’s chest, past his navel, until he can twine his fingers in the short hair on Danny’s groin. It looks for a moment as though he might speak, but there are no words. He leans forward and kisses Danny again, deeply, before drawing back to leave the other man breathless. He presses hot, wet kisses to Danny’s chest, to the soft skin on his inner thighs, and then finally to the head of Danny’s extremely attentive cock.

“Shit, Steve!” Danny gasps when Steve wraps his mouth around Danny’s cock and sucks experimentally. The heat is overwhelming and Danny’s eyes flutter shut as he revels in the experience of being the centre of Steve’s attention. Steve takes his time to explore Danny’s cock. He runs his tongue up the thick vein on the underside and then laves across the head, he sucks him all the way in and then releases him slowly, finishing with a lascivious pop. Then he sucks him deep again, sighing when his nose rests in Danny’s hair. Meanwhile, Danny pants and gasps and writhes and fights not to thrust upwards. The sensations are breath-taking and bewildering in equal measure.

“Babe! Babe!” Danny calls, pulling at Steve’s hair. “You gotta stop.”

Steve pulls off slowly and looks deep into Danny’s eyes, his own face carnal with lust.

“You going to fuck me now?” he asks, leaning over Danny. He is so close that Danny can practically hear his heart beat. Danny nods and moves to sit up. Steve shifts over him and lies down, his legs splayed.

“What do I do?” Danny asks. He knows, he does, but he wants to hear from Steve—to hear what he wants.

“Just one finger, it’s been a while,” Steve says without shame or embarrassment. “Plenty of lube, but not too slow. I like it a little rough,” he smirks, an eyebrow raised. Danny huffs a laugh—why is he not surprised?

He lubes up a finger and then leans over Steve’s body to kiss him while he slides the single digit in. Steve gasps below him and then shudders. The feeling is strange for Danny, but not unwelcome. Steve is tight and hot—both good things as far as the Jersey cop is concerned.

They kiss deeply while Danny opens Steve up. First one finger, now two. Steve is beginning to shift below him, his hips thrusting slightly as he tries to draw Danny in deeper. Eventually, he breaks the kiss and gasps, “Now, Danny. Shit, in me, now. Please!”

Danny is wide eyed at the open desperation. He did that. He made Steve lose his cool. God, it feels good. Danny’s own cock is straining and he lubes himself up quickly, roughly, before lining himself up.

“You tell me to stop, I stop,” he says. Steve nods and then lifts his hips, making it easier for Danny to push himself in. He presses forward and slowly the head of his cock pushes through the loose ring of muscle. As he slides in slowly, Steve gasps and presses his head backwards into the bedding, his long throat exposed to Danny. When he is fully seated, Danny pauses. He wants to enjoy this sensation, Steve’s walls tight and hot around him, because he has realised in the last few moments that he is terrified they won’t do this again. Pushing aside thoughts of ‘returning to normal’, Danny begins to draw out slowly. Steve gasps his name and reaches for his own throbbing cock.

“No babe,” Danny says, pushing the SEAL’s hand away, “Don’t touch yourself. I want you to come from this, from me, from having my cock deep in your ass.”

Steve groans and licks his lips. Danny has never been good at dirty talk, but Steve doesn’t seem to care much and he grabs onto Danny’s hips instead. Danny’s thrusts become deeper, harder, until each man is lathered in sweat and gasping into the night. With each snap of his hips, Danny feels his climax ripple through him. He is close, so close, and then he panics. They haven’t used protection, and he knows he’s clean, but what if Steve doesn’t want that. He glances down at the other man and sees that Steve’s gaze is fixed firmly on him.

“Harder, Danno. I’m going to come. With me?” And Danny smiles before thrusting once, twice, three times more. Steve trembles below him and then gasps as his own climax explodes between them, hot and dirty. Danny tumbles over the cliff of his own orgasm and thrusts deep into Steve, holding him tightly.

After a few moments, Steve rolls them onto their side, but keeping Danny’s cock firmly in his ass. “Thank you,” he whispers softly, brushing Danny’s hair back from his forehead.

“For what?” Danny shrugs with a smile.

“I hope that was okay?” Steve asks, his worry barely contained in the words.

“That was incredible,” Danny laughs, “And we are so doing it again. Aren’t we?”

Steve loves the arrogance, the certainty, the confidence of Danny.

He loves Danny.

“Yes, we can do that again,” Steve agrees readily. Inside, his heart hammers wildly. If this is just sex for Danny, if that’s all he can do, it will be enough for Steve. He’s wanted this for years, and while Danny dated his way through Hawaii, Steve watched painfully from the sidelines.

“Hey. What is it?” Danny asks, tipping Steve’s face up so that he can look into his eyes.

“Nothing.” Steve’s wan smile belies the truth of the statement though.

“Tell me,” Danny says in a delightful echo of just minutes ago.

“Just—” Steve scrabbles for the words. Danny is always the one with the words, who wears his heart on his sleeve. Danny leans forward and presses a kiss to Steve’s temple and, somehow, that seems to help him find his courage again. “I’ve wanted this so long now that I can’t really believe that it happened.” This time the words burst forth and explode around them, filling the air with thick emotional fallout.

“Really?” Danny asks with a smile.

“But I know you didn’t, don’t, whatever. I get that. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”

“Do you love Grace?” Danny blurts and, distracted by the odd segue, Steve just nods. “Good. Because we’re a package deal, my daughter and I, and if you’re going to have me you have to have her as well.” Danny’s heart lurches in his chest at the thought that he might never see his daughter again, that he’s lying there in the blissful afterglow of truly awesome sex, while his daughter is probably frantic with worry.

Steve sees the shift in his expression, feels the change in his mood, and he sighs unsteadily.

“I love your daughter almost as much as I love you,” he says, “And I wouldn’t want one of you without the other.”

“You love me?” Danny asks, his smile wide and genuine.

“You know I do.”

“Me too.”

 

Later that night, after a brief swim in the cool ocean to clean themselves, Danny and Steve wrap themselves together in the mess of parachute and blanket and seat padding that is now ‘their’ bed mat. They press their skin together, their lips together, their hearts together. Neither knows what the new day will bring, but neither thinks of it either. Instead, they explore and love and want and need until the sun begins to rise. Slowly, with the sound of the ocean lapping at the shore, they drift off into a deep, dreamless sleep as, around them, day twenty eight finally dawns.

 

 


End file.
